


Under His Skin

by gin_tonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Veela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/gin_tonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's after the war and technically everything should get back into order. But Harry didn't count on fate and he would never have thought that his affair with Draco Malfoy would be this life changing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under His Skin

When Harry slept with Draco Malfoy for the first time he brushed it off as a thing you did when you had just vanquished a Dark Lord and saved your childhood bully (No. 2) from certain death. Hormones and victory were the cause of many weird couples (excluding Hermione and Ron, who were just doing what everyone had come to expect for them to do for the past three years) - Harry knew for a fact that McGonagall and Flitwick had a thing going on.

Fucking Draco - or rather being fucked by him - had proven to be exceptionally good. 

Harry could even explain the second and third time it had happened - being drunk and then celebrating that Draco wasn't sentenced to Azkaban, but only on probation for two years. 

But for the love of everything that was high and holy Harry couldn't find a good explanation as to why he was sitting on his newly acquired couch in his newly rented flat, wiggling around like a maniac and wishing that Draco was with him that instant. The wish was crawling under his skin, making him twitch and wriggle and wouldn't let him have some peace. The image of Draco danced in front of his eyes and he couldn't make it go away - hell, he didn't even want to. And when Draco touched him Harry knew that everything felt good and right to him. It was unnatural, this need to be close to Draco. Hermione and Ron, currently seated on two chairs facing him with serious expressions, though so too.

"Honestly, I tell you it has to be some kind of spell! Malfoy must've put you under an enchantment or he's one of these sex-creature-thingies that make you want them --"

"You mean a succubus," Hermione mumbled.

"-- A succubus or something like that!" Ron finished, gesturing around weirdly to emphasize his thesis.   
   
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. He's not a succubus. He's perfectly normal, it's me who --"

"Actually ..." Hermione cleared her throat. Harry could practically feel the arrival of very bad news. Hell, Hermione generally managed to give a welcome parade. "Actually Malfoy is a magical creature. A male Veela, or quarter Veela that is." Harry stared at her.   
   
"So he did put me under an enchantment?" Harry asked incredulously. He had saved the guy's life! Twice! And now he dared to fool him and make Harry want him?!

"I'm not so sure about that, seeing as you can throw off the Imperius Curse." Hermione pondered and Harry exhaled gratefully

"But he was affected as I was when the Veela appeared during the Quidditch World Cup!" Ron cried. "You were, mate, don't deny it," He added at Harry's dark look.

"But he didn't fall over his feet when Fleur or Gabrielle were close. Still doesn't, unlike other guys - one of them in this room." Ron looked around, searching for someone else in the room who was male and prone to drool in the presence of Veela. The pretending did not work, of course, and he finally shrugged innocently, before Hermione continued. "Did you find yourself telling him that you would slay a dragon for him or something like that?"

Harry shook his head. Whenever he and Malfoy met there wasn't that much talking involved. Usually the customary greeting, maybe a few words exchanged over a glass of the wine that Malfoy had brought or over a sip of Firewhiskey and when the glasses were empty they would find themselves attached from lips to cock, then from chest to back and cock to arse.  
   
Harry cleared his throat.  
   
"Maybe you are only a bit affected by him, Harry. Anyway, you probably should stay away from him." Hermione suggested and stood up, clapping her hands on her legs to show that she was ready to go. "Especially while we're Down Under." Harry nodded.  
   
"I promise I'll be good, Mum," he said with a wry grin and hugged Hermione, then turned to Ron. "You watch over her, understand?"  
   
"Sure I will." Ron smiled and winked at Hermione and Harry pretended that he hadn't seen that or the answering blush on Hermione's cheeks. "Just send an owl or something when you need us. And be sure to Floo Bill, or even Percy or somebody if anyone gives you trouble. They'll hex them from here to Australia, where I will take care of them if you get my drift." Ron squeezed Harry's shoulder and Harry squeezed back.  
   
"Thanks. I hope you find your parents soon, Hermione."  
   
"As do I, which is why we have to go now. Our Portkey is waiting." They hugged each other again and Hermione and Ron left, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

Several hours and one instant-meal later there was a very Draco-like knock on the door. Harry bit his lip and told himself that, no, he would absolutely not open the door. Even though there was the promise of really, really good sex on the other side. He wasn't desperate now, was he? He had gone years without sex - he could do this. The knock got more insistent and then Draco called his name once, twice. Then the crack of an Apparition and silence. Harry exhaled shakily. What the bloody hell had gotten into him that it cost him that much energy not to open the door for somebody? He felt tired, so he got up and dragged himself to bed, hoping that sleep would cure this insanity. Maybe tomorrow he could go to Flourish &amp; Blotts and read up on Veela.  
   
   


***

 

Harry felt the need to be close to Draco even more when he woke up. Taking a shower and eating breakfast didn't help. Not even the cup of that wonderful Roibush tea that he had bought as a treat helped, leaving Harry to stare at the bottle of Firewhiskey that might have found its end that very minute, if it hadn't been only 10 o'clock in the morning. So instead he teased himself with the image of one of those bacon bagels that he would get in Diagon Alley, locked his door and Apparated.  
   
Flourish &amp; Blotts was quite crowded now that the streets were more or less secure again. Aurors patrolled the streets, but gone was the sense of dread that had been lying over the area and its visitors. Instead children were running around, playing hide and seek between the strolling adults, and old witches were gossiping at the corners. School would not begin for more than two more months - and even then it wouldn't be Hogwarts Harry would be going to.

While Hogwarts would tentatively reopen its doors with Minerva McGonagall as the new headmistress, Harry and all those who hadn't been able to start or finish their seventh year would be given special tuition in rooms provided (but thankfully not controlled) by the Ministry, so they could finish their education and sit their N.E.W.T.S. Hermione, of course, had signed up for every class available, while Harry and Ron concentrated only on those they felt were needed for later.

Harry wandered through the long pathways between the high and packed shelves. The combined smell of old and new books was lying in the air and he knew this was what Hermione could get high of. The thought made him chuckle.

He finally found the "Magical Creatures" section after passing the same shelf for the fourth time and another ten minutes later he was able to locate the books about Veela. Despite what he had expected there was a good selection of books on the topic, starting with _A Many Splendid Thing - 1000 Ways to Seduce a Veela_, going over to _How a Veela Took My Manhood_ and concluding with _Veela, the Pure, Unabridged Truth_. Summoning a stool to sit down, Harry built his own stack of reading material and started to browse.

 

Several hours had passed when Harry finally left Flourish&amp; Blotts with a book - _The Veela Culture_ \- under his arm and a displeased look of the bookshop's clerk in his back. Apparently the owners and employees didn't like it when someone just read the books in the store instead of buying them and even being the Savoir of the Wizarding World on a quest for information wasn't a good excuse.

Dozens of contradicting facts raced around in Harry's head, conspiring to drive him mental or at least to confuse him totally. It made him long for a good, strong Mocha Latte that he would get from the newest franchise of Fortescue's.

Harry felt Draco before he actually heard him. It was like a blast wave that came before the actual bang of an explosion. He felt himself tense up and relax in quick intervals and his body temperature rose until he could feel the red of a prominent blush creep up from his collar. This couldn't be natural now, could it? It was almost as if -

"Potter! Fancy meeting you here!" Draco greeted him and planted his hand on Harry's shoulders, spreading even more warmth through Harry's body. Harry turned and smiled, not being able to contain that surge of happiness that went through him.

"Hey, Malfoy," Harry coughed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I stopped by your place last night, but you weren't in, it seems," Draco said casually and started walking towards Fortescue's Caffeine Paradise. Harry fell in step with him and looked to the side uncomfortably. So much for staying away from Draco.

"Yeah, I had to ... run some errands." Draco nodded, accepting the excuse without question, despite the fact that it had been a bit late for errands. "And what are you up to today?" He hoped Draco had something planned and really had only time for grabbing a coffee or something.

"Nothing," Draco said and grinned at him. It was disconcerting to see him like this when Harry had spent years looking at a mean sneer in Draco's face. Harry couldn't quite explain it, but seeing Draco grinning at him made his insides feel all mushy - and it couldn't be a good thing for the insides of the Wizard World's hero to feel mushy. Somebody, Harry thought, should have written a book about "The Mushy Insides of Heroes" so Hermione could have read it and told him everything he needed to know. But instead he was on his own with this, especially since he didn't feel like telling Hermione about his insides. "Though now that I met you... you don't have anything planned, have you?"

For two whole seconds Harry contemplated saying that he had indeed something planned, that he would visit the Weasleys. But in the third second he set everything at naught, shook his head, and ordered a big Mocha Latte.

 

***

 

Draco's fingers slipped out of Harry's slick arse and he would have groaned at the loss of the feeling if not for the thick cock that pressed in instead. No matter how often they did this Harry couldn't imagine ever getting bored, ever reaching the point when he didn't want Draco's cock in him anymore.

"God!" Harry gasped and pushed back against Draco, grabbing the sheets. How could it get any better than this? His dick was leaking, begging to be touched, but he refused himself. He wanted this to go on as long as possible.

"Shit, Potter! You're so tight!" Draco gasped and rammed in deep, then bit hard into Harry's shoulder. Harry cried out, wishing he was in a position where he could claim Draco's mouth. There would be bruises later, he knew, and they would remind him of this. They would be bloody perfect. Draco grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him back roughly, his teeth worrying the skin on his neck. Harry wasted no time wondering how on earth Draco knew how much he loved to be bitten hard there and instead got high on the feeling alone. He registered vaguely that he was crying out and driving himself further onto Draco's cock, which was now buried so deep inside him that he wondered if Draco would shoot his load out of Harry's throat. Harry's fingers clenched and unclenched and Draco's movements got quicker, more urgent. Draco was close to coming and the tingling sensation that was pooling in Harry's feet shot up his legs and he needed only a few more thrusts and he would -

Harry cried out a long string of indistinguishable vocals and felt his cock spurt thickly onto the sheets. His arms gave out and he collapsed onto the mattress, while Draco pushed once -- twice more and came, too.

He slumped onto Harry, exhaled deeply and then chuckled, puffing Harry's hair. The breath on his sweaty, overheated skin felt cold and Harry shivered, then moaned as Draco pulled out of him and rolled onto his back.

"Brilliant, Potter. Absolutely brilliant," he breathed and Harry smiled tiredly.

"You too," he said and yawned, snuggling into the pillow.

 

When he woke up two hours later from an unintended slumber his bedroom was dark and bereft of Draco. Harry extended his hand and ran it over the place where Draco had lain the last time his eyes had been open. Judging from the coldness there he must've left shortly after Harry had fallen asleep. Drawing the covers tighter around himself, Harry wondered why this bothered him so much.

 

***

 

Harry sat on his couch, snuggled up in a warm and fuzzy blanket, and sipped on his tea. The book about Veela that he had acquired the day before was lying on his knees and he had managed to read the preface and the first couple of pages before drifting off. The first chapter 'What are Veela and where do they come from?' cleared up some of his question on their origin. In short the answer was that they were magical, human-like creatures who live in clans, could change their pleasant appearance to the looks of terrifying demons and possessed the power to ensnare the senses of men and women alike, depending on the subjects own will power and ability to resist mind control. And they came from the regions of the Provence in France, as well as Bulgaria and Turkey, where they seemed to have migrated to more than 1200 years ago.

He wondered what Draco was doing right now - or, in fact, what he was doing all day, seeing as he had no job or other duties to be occupied with, except for being the Malfoy heir. He would, just like Harry and most of the people from their year, wait for school to start again. Maybe Draco was studying in advance already. He did have that competitive streak and would probably try to get ahead of Hermione as long as he could. Or did he play Quidditch all day? Draco had told him during one of their brief chats that the Manor's garden was magnificent and bode enough space for their favourite game. If he was practising he would be an even more serious opponent for Harry - though he doubted that they would be allowed to play for Hogwarts once again. A pity really.

Harry shook his head at himself. What was that again about not thinking of Draco and staying away from him? It didn't seem like he was able to do either - and that was really, really bad. Not only because Harry shouldn't think so much about someone who was supposed to be -- no, no, who _was_ a fuck buddy, but also because Hermione would be so pissed at him when she came back and he still was addicted to Draco.

Addicted! That's was what he was. And not because of some strange Veela power like Ron had said (Harry was, after all, more or less resistant to mind controlling powers) or a potion (which would probably be Ron's next guess). No, Harry decided that there could only be one logical reason why he was addicted to Draco: He just didn't know any other guys who he wanted to have sex with (and who wanted to have sex with him, too), and didn't have that many partners yet. He just knew that if he found someone who was better in bed than Draco - never mind how bloody hard it would be to find one - this obsession would go away and he could be as normal again as a boy-hero named Harry Potter could be.

 

Later that day Harry made his way to Heaven - one of the clubs in Muggle London that Seamus had told him about. Getting in wasn't much of a problem; a little bit of wand waving did the trick and no questions regarding his age were asked.

He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt; simple enough to be comfortable and still sexy enough to fit right in with the colourful and mostly less clothed crowd. For a tiny fragment of a second, Harry stopped when he entered the main room of the club. It was loud and crowded, nearly a bit too much for his war-laden senses, but he collected himself quickly. Sweaty people were glittering in fluorescent green light, dancing and grinding against each other. He could spot some women in the masses, but most of the people here were naturally male. And loads of them looked ... quite nice.

Stealing himself for what was about to come Harry made his way onto the dance floor.

 

The brunette that was pulling him towards the bar had probably the cutest arse in the club, Harry decided and grinned breathlessly. He had danced so much that his feet were hurting, had grinded against countless shirtless bodies, had even had people nibble at his neck and it had been so _damn_ good.

The other man ordered drinks for them, but even if Harry had heard him say their names over the massive bass of the music he wouldn't have been able to say what they were. Alcohol, that much was sure.

The barkeeper hurriedly put two tiny glasses topped with slices of lemon down in front of them and a bit of the clear liquid spilled on Harry's hand, when he reached for his at the same time. He licked it off of his hand and grimaced at the bitter taste. He would rather have a large bottle of water, thirsty as he was, but the guy next to him had been so nice to invite him for the drinks and he couldn't very well say no.

Harry observed out of the corner of his eyes how the other gulped down his drink and followed his example. He licked the salt of the back of his hand, downed the drink as quick as he could and then bit into the lemon to drive away the bitter taste. Harry grimaced even more and shook his head, feeling how the alcohol immediately got to his head.

Before he could even remember to order the water that he wanted the brunette had taken his hand again and dragged him over to a bit of free space, not far away from one of the big speakers. The music and the bass thrummed through Harry's body, making it pulse rapidly. Arms, neither strong nor weak, circled his waist and drew him close and Harry looked up to find the other's face only an inch away. His eyes shut automatically, but with the first touch of Harry's lips to the brunette's he knew something was off. This wasn't the right angle. The wrong feel of lips. A different, cruder kissing technique, hands not slim enough feeling completely foreign on his arse, a tongue tasting of the bitter alcohol they had drunk and not of coffee and chocolate cookies. Everything was just plain wrong. Itchy.

When they broke apart, Harry put his hands on the brunette's chest and gently pushed the other man away, shaking his head. It was then that he realised that he wouldn't find salvation for his obsession here, that he would probably not find it anywhere.

 

***

 

He didn't tell Draco of his club experience the next time they saw each other. And just like that Harry fell back into the pattern he had sworn to Hermione that he would give up. What he had given up on instead was trying to avoid Draco. Harry knew that he would give in to Draco sooner or later anyway, so why not do it sooner and have some fun while doing so?

Knowing of his feelings towards Draco did not help matters in any way. In fact, he was feeling even more nervous when he saw Draco and there was nothing Harry could do about it. Talking about it was out of question. Harry was sure that the last thing Draco wanted to hear was that Harry had a crush on him. Because it was a crush and not love, Harry told himself. A crush could be overcome; love, on the other hand, was indestructible.

 

***

 

Two weeks and four chapters about Veela being born, their childhood and early teens later Harry discovered through a very embarrassing event at the 'Weasleys' Weekly Saturday Dinner' that the smell of fish could make him violently ill. 

The next morning the smell of a coffee with loads of milk and sugar, just how he liked it best, did the same. Harry would have thought that he had caught a stomach bug or something like that, but his stomach didn't have a problem with a cup of tea and croissants, so he left the potion in the cupboard. Sipping on his tea he opened the Veela book again and started the next chapter - 'Veela and Adolescence'.

> _"When Veela reach their sexual maturity they will feel the urge to mate. Pure Veela will set out to find their destined mate - often, but not always to be found in one of the Veela clans - while persons who are only part Veela will not feel the 'need to complete themselves'. Generally it can be said that pure Veela will mate for life, while part Veela can or will chose a partner with whom they can, but need not, stay together forever. Depending on their blood-status the urge to find a permanent partner will be stronger or weaker."_

Did Draco feel that too? He was probably only quarter Veela, because Harry hadn't heard of either Narcissa or Lucius being pure Veela, so there wouldn't be the need to mate, but was Draco searching for someone? Harry wished that Draco was and that he would realise that Harry might be the one that he wanted. Not that Harry wanted to go as far as to say that he wanted to stay together with Draco forever, but he knew that there had been an affinity between the two of them since day one. And he wanted Draco. Needed him even.

> _"Before the Veela reach their maturity, they should be taught the basic rules of Veela mating by an elder. Veela are extremely fertile and are therefore, even with the normal precautions, prone to sire or conceive very quickly. _

Should the Veela - no matter their blood-status - choose a same-sex partner they will be able to sire a child with their partner. Changes in the Veela's body will most likely not be noticed, but are made when a partner has been chosen.

In relationships with two Veela partners it will be the more dominant Veela who will sire a child, but with a mixed couple things appear slightly different. With a lesbian couple it will be the Veela who gets pregnant, while in a gay couple the human partner will conceive. Tests for pregnancies can be done by a spell, but should be confirmed by a healer."

Harry stared at the page in front of him. Everything he had learned about sexuality in his not so long, but thankfully still existing life had been turned upside down with only a couple of lines that he had read. His brain wanted to scream and shout out a loud "What?!". Men could not get pregnant. It was just not done. Did Draco know about this? Had someone explained to him that he needed to be careful? Harry had heard him cast protective charms before they had had sex, but hadn't the book said that they might not be reliable for Veela? He would have to talk to Draco about this, if they were continuing their thing - and Harry very much intended to do that. Draco would soon see that Harry was really who he wanted and everything would be okay.

But he couldn't get pregnant. Harry shook himself and grimaced at this thought. Men. Pregnant. Just not done. Being pregnant meant problems, meant an insecure future, meant back-pain and swollen feet and weird cravings and morning sickness--

Harry's head swivelled around and he found his eyes glued to the coffee machine. No. No, surely not. He thought back to the fish-smell and shook his head. Ridiculous. He just had a slightly upset stomach, nothing that rest and loads of camomile tea wouldn't cure. He wasn't pregnant.

Harry scoffed. "Pull yourself together, Potter, you're becoming paranoid." Of course there was one easy way to prove that there was nothing to that tiny little prank that his consciousness was pulling on him. But why cast the spell when he knew that it was only because he wasn't breaking things off with Draco? If there was anything to break off in the first place.

 

Seven hours later Harry was back at the kitchen table, staring at the page with the pregnancy determining spell. No, he hadn't cast it yet. Yes, he was a coward. Yes, he knew Harry Potter was not supposed to be a coward, especially since the only thing he had to do was say three, goddamn words. But those words could change his whole life, his future. Did he really want that? And if he didn't, what good would it do if he didn't cast the spell? Or what bad would it do if he didn't? Was it necessary? What if he wasn't actually pregnant - of course he wasn't! - and had worried for nothing at all?

Harry wished that there was someone he could ask for advice. Sirius, Lupin, Mum, Dad ... hell, he'd even appreciate if Hermione was here, no matter that she would have his head for the mere possibility...

But there wasn't anybody he could turn to, and he had a decision to make. Find out or stay in the dark.

Closing his eyes Harry raised his wand and cast the spell. And felt nothing. Not even a tiny tingle. He blinked, looked around and then, slowly, he began to feel a warmth coming from his belly. He gulped and looked down. Glowing. His belly was actually glowing through his shirt in a warm yellow. He looked at the book then back at his belly. Pregnant.

Harry lost his consciousness.

 

When he came to himself Harry found himself in probably the most uncomfortable position that a human being had ever been in - not taking various torture sessions and results of killing sprees by Evil Overlords into account. He pushed himself up and groaned with the effort, feeling like a very old man. For a Mument or two he wondered what had caused him to fall onto the floor, then the cruel memory came back to him, leaving only one thing to say: "Holy fucking shit!"

 

Harry didn't sleep that night. He just sat on the sofa, knees drawn to his chest, a blanket hugging his body when no-one else did, and stared into space. What now? The question rebounded in his head and haunted every thought. What was he supposed to do? Keep the child, of course. He couldn't imagine doing anything else. And then? What would Draco say? Would Draco want him to keep the child? And everyone else - how would they react? It wasn't common by any means that men got pregnant in the Wizarding world. Even though it was not unheard of, everyone would perceive it as strange, maybe even unnatural. He didn't even want to think about the day the press got wind of his pregnancy.

Would he be able to go to school being pregnant? Would he be able to finish school? And how was he supposed to get a job when he had a baby. He might have enough money to live on for a while, but he had planned on getting a job and _living_. His life - the one he had known - was over now.   
At five o'clock in the morning as his eyes started drooping, he wondered whether that was a bad thing.

 

When Harry woke up from the short slumber he had fallen into, he dragged himself into the kitchen. Keeping his eyes away from the book on the table he pretended it was just another one of those way-too-early mornings that he had when a nightmare had woken him up. He followed his daily routine, made tea, had a toast with Nutella for breakfast and - since it was Saturday - thought about what groceries he had to buy.

Harry kept his eyes averted, took a shower, got dressed and went shopping. He avoided the shelf with the baby food, did his very best to be interested in the variations of the daily newspaper, but he still couldn't ban the pregnancy nor the book from his mind. It was as if he was possessed - and in a way he was.

That was why Harry caved in and, after putting his purchases away, he sat down in front of the book again.

 

***

 

Draco knocked at Harry's door at one in the morning. Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa, the book in his lap and his head full of things he needed to do, things he was worried about. When Draco's loud trademark knock came he jerked up, looking around frantically as if he expected something to attack him out of the blue, but there was only a second knock and Draco's yelling.

Harry bit his lip. Why now? Couldn't fate or God or whoever looked over these things have granted him a bit more leeway before it came to this confrontation? He couldn't deal with it now. If he opened the door, Draco would only let loose his charms again and Harry would do what had gotten him into this trouble before Draco would vanish once again. And even if he actually did manage to get Draco to stay long enough to talk he would have to tell him about being pregnant. He didn't think that would go over too well.

"Come on, Potter, open the door! I know you're in there; I heard your yelp," Draco called and knocked again. Harry tried not to think of the neighbours. "What's wrong? Did I forget your birthday or anything? Or are you sick? In that case I won't come in, can't have me catching your germs." Harry got up,   
dragging the blanket he had been rolled up in with him and leant against the wall next to the front door.

"Yeah, 'm sick," he said in his best imitation of Dudley's Mum-I-cannot-go-to-school voice and added a hearty sniff at the end. How nice of Draco to give him a good way out. Harry's affirmation alone seemed to be enough for Draco to say he would see Harry sometime in the next few days and leave as quickly as humanly possible. Harry scoffed. Draco's whininess and fear of getting sick was probably something that would never change.

Harry shook his head and walked into the bathroom. This business of falling asleep on the sofa was killing his back and he knew he really should take better care of himself. Hermione would kill him - not she wouldn't do so anyway, once she heard about what had happened to him. And what _would_ happen.

But he had more urgent things to think about now than his unavoidable, approaching death at the hands of one Hermione Granger. The question was what he would do about Draco and the baby. Now that he had decided that he would keep it he needed a plan on how to tell Draco. Someday. Somehow.

Harry spit out the toothpaste foam that made him look like a rabid lunatic and sighed. Well, he was only at the beginning of his pregnancy. Loads of time to formulate and carry out plans.

 

***

 

Only one week and many evenings of telling Draco that he was still sick later Harry found out that his intention of planning and putting things off would not work. He was on his way back from a healer, who the book had advised should confirm Harry's own pregnancy test spell, and couldn't help but feel defeated somehow. The healer had indeed confirmed Harry's results and had carved his pregnancy into stone. No denial possible anymore, no stomach bug he could blame for the nausea. The  
problems each morning had increased and he needed a good hour after getting up to calm down enough to drink a few sips of camomile tea -- which in itself should have made him nauseous, because of the well know fact that camomile tea was just vile and only for those who were ill.

It had been the main reason why he couldn't put off the visit to the healer anymore and the woman had told him that he had come just in time. He had to change his diet, had to change his habits. In fact everything in his life seemed to undergo a change and Harry didn't know what to think of that.

And to think that he had yet to tell anybody ... he really wasn't looking forward to that.

He should have known, somehow, that Draco would cross his path, no matter that Draco lived at the manor, which was miles away, and usually didn't frequent any cafés here, especially not early in the morning. Of course Draco somehow didn't pay logic any heed and jumped off of his chair in front of a café where he had just sipped on his espresso.

"Hey, Potter!"

Harry nearly dropped the bag of new, diet-conformed groceries in his hands. _Shit. Shit. Shitty shit shit shit._ He turned around and gave Draco, who had reached him by now, a weary half smile.

"Hi." He coughed and knew he wasn't convincing at all.

"You're up and about? I thought you were being sick," Draco remarked and studied Harry intently. "Though you don't look sick at all."

"I -"

"You know, I already found it weird that you were sick for a whole week and still didn't want me to take you to a healer when I offered, but I thought that you were just being stubborn. And then I see you prancing around here and I can't help but wonder why the hell you have been lying to me."

"You see -" Harry started, but Draco interrupted him angrily.

"Why, Potter? I thought we had something like a truce or even a friendship - and now you think you have to lie to stop me bothering you? You could have just said 'I don't want to meet you.' or even 'Sod off!', and I would have gotten the message. And to think that I thought you liked getting fucked by me!" Draco whirled around and started to stride away.

"Malfoy! Please stop!" Harry cried and Draco turned around, but didn't stop walking.

"I'll give you an example on how to tell someone to leave you alone: Sod off, Potter!"

"Draco!" Harry called out, not noticing that he had slipped, and ran after the other, grabbing his arm. "Please, let me explain. It wasn't like that. I didn't want you to -" Go away? Well, he had wanted that, but only until he could find the guts to tell Draco everything. He had been putting it off, of course. It had been so much easier that way.

Draco stopped and stared down at him, waiting, as if he could burn a hole into Harry's clothing with his eyes alone. To Harry it felt like he could.

"Can ... can we go somewhere?" Harry asked nervously, looking around, fearing for paparazzi where none were present. "This is private."

 

So Draco had followed him home and was currently sitting at the kitchen table, staring angrily down at his camomile tea, which was the only thing that Harry had nowadays. He had given everything else away, seeing as the mere presence seemed to remind him of his nausea when smelling it, which actually made him nauseous again.

Deciding that fleeing and hiding under the duvet in his bedroom was no longer an option - it was a mistake to think of duvets and beds in Draco's vicinity, Harry sat down and crossed his legs.

"Something has happened," he started finally, looking away from Draco. It was so much easier to talk to the kitchen cupboards that to Draco's face. "I ... when we slept together ... you didn't use any protection and I didn't think of it either -"

"Are you ill?" Draco's terse question came. Harry shook his head.

"No, nothing like that. At least I don't think of it as an illness." Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "You are a Veela." Draco stiffened. It probably wasn't something he liked to talk about, given the fact that his family had been very much into the pure-blood madness.

"Quarter Veela."

"Did you know that you could impregnate your partners?" Draco said nothing and Harry didn't dare to look at his face. He closed his eyes and wish this was over and done with.

"You're not a woman, Potter," Draco remarked finally.

"Doesn't change anything. It still works."

"Are you trying to tell me -"

"I am pregnant." There. It was out. Hung in the air like an oily film hung on water. Harry wished Draco would do anything - breath, move, scream - but Draco didn't do anything. "Draco?" Harry bit his lip worriedly and finally - thank Merlin! - Draco blinked. Once, twice.

"You're kidding." Harry shook his head. "You can't be pregnant."

"But I am." Harry's voice was small, nearly apologetic, as if he had done something wrong. It was like back at the Dursley's when everything he had said had been an apology. It had taken him a while to realize that none of them were accepted and he had gotten rid of the habit - or so he had thought.

"I don't believe you." Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at him. Harry walked to the couch and fetched the Veela book, held it out to Draco and waited for him to take it.

"Page 115. There's a spell to test for a pregnancy. But really, you can save yourself the trouble. I saw a healer today and she said that I'm one hundred percent pregnant." It was out, Harry thought. Finally he had said it, finally he didn't need to bear the burden alone. He felt the familiar warmth of the pregnancy test that he hadn't heard Draco casting, but didn't bother to look at the result as he knew it anyway. His tea had already grown cold. Harry put his arms around himself to fend off the chill that seemed to creep onto him.

"Get rid of it."

"What?!" Harry's head whipped around and he stared wide eyed at Draco.

"Get rid of it! I don't want it!"

"I'm not killing my baby! I've had enough of killing and I'm not about to do that to something that is growing _inside_ me!" Harry stood up and paced agitatedly through the kitchen. He couldn't believe Draco had really said that

"I can't believe this! I thought you were safe! I thought you of all people wouldn't heap any emotional crap on me and now this!" Draco raked a hand through his hair. "I thought I could finally be free now that the whole war is over. I thought I could live!"

"How do you think I feel? The first time in my life I have possibilities and can decide what to do on my own and I find myself pregnant! When I _didn't even know it was possible!_ You are the Veela! You should have known! You should have used protection!"

"I didn't know it would work like this! Nobody told me!" Draco shouted back at Harry. He positively loomed over him and Harry tried not to be intimidated by a guy he had known for more than seven years now and had beaten in Quidditch and duels more often than he could count. A small part of his mind asked how things could have come that far, but now was not the time to moan and bitch about fate. "You know what, I don't care if you want to keep it or not. This," Draco waved his arms around between them, "was never more than a fling! And whatever _you_ want it to be - I'm not in it!"

Harry watched helplessly as Draco turned around and stormed out of his flat, banging the door in his wake. Stunned he stood there for a couple more minutes, trying to understand what had just happened. Whatever fantasy he had entertained of Draco's reaction to the news had now violently burst like a soap bubble.

He felt his legs give and grabbed the back of the chair next to him in time, then gingerly sat down on it. That was it. That was the end, Harry thought and put his head in his hands. From now on he was truly alone. Sure, his friends might eventually accept that he was pregnant and might help and support him, but they would never be able to substitute what he had hoped that Draco might be.

Harry snorted bitterly into the empty flat. He had been quite foolish, hadn't he? To think that Draco, who continued to call him Potter even in bed, who usually didn't even stay long enough to talk after they fucked, would take an interest in this. That he would become a permanent part in Harry's and the child's life, that they would be _together_.

Foolish, foolish Harry.

 

******

A letter from Hermione ended Harry's wallowing in self-pity. She told him about how things were going Down Under and that everything was fine. They had found her parents and were busy undoing the memory charm that Hermione had cast on them. The process was slow, but seemed to work, which was a good thing in itself, and Hermione supposed that they would stay for two or three more weeks before returning to England. Ron sent his greetings in the form of an inquest about the latest Quidditch results, which made Harry grin for the first time in ages. He couldn't wait for them to come home.

Just when Harry took out some paper to write back to his friends someone knocked at the door. It was a determined knock, a knock that didn't accept that the door was still closed, and one was used to being obeyed. Harry did just that and opened the door wearily after casting a quick security spell to check that the person outside didn't want to harm him.

Which was why he was quite surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy standing right in front of him. This, however, was nothing compared to the shock Harry got when the same Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius Malfoy and mistress over the Malfoy estate, stepped up to him and hugged him with the words: "Harry, my boy, it's good to see you."

Stunned he let her in - or rather didn't say anything as she let herself in. Instead he closed the door and followed her to the kitchen, where she had begun to boil water. From the looks of it she had brought her own tea set, which could only mean that Draco had told her about the camomile tea. Weird what people would talk about when there were so many more important things.

"Mrs Malfoy, I -"

"Please, call me Narcissa," the woman interrupted him and sent him a charming smile. Suddenly, there was nothing left of the sneering lady that looked like something was rotting in front of her nose. Narcissa looked rather like one of those ideal, golden mother-witches from the magazines - only that she was clearly wealthier than all of them combined. "You don't mind, do you?" She pointed at the tea set and Harry shook his head, watching as she poured them two cups - one with camomile tea. "Why don't we sit down?" Harry nodded again and gratefully took the cup she floated over to him, if only for that fact that now he had something to cling to.

"You know, you don't have to look so terrified, Harry. I'm not going to do anything vile to you." Narcissa informed him and crossed her legs primly.

"I know," Harry mumbled. He had, after all, performed the security check on her. "But ... what are you doing here?"

"Right to those questions?" Narcissa sighed. "Yes, well, I suppose this is not the time for pleasant chit-chat anyway." The way she said that implied that there would be another time for that, which implied that she would be visiting again. And that was a little bit unnerving for Harry. "You see, Harry, a couple of days ago my son came storming through our front doors while I was on my way to the winter gardens. You may think that this is a usual occurrence, but I can tell you that I know my son very well and I knew that something was wrong. So I sat him down and made him tell me everything about him and you." Harry's eyes widened comically, but Narcissa just tsked. "Not every single detail, darling. He is my son, after all, and I do not want to die of a stroke. Anyway, he told me that you are pregnant with his child and that he had told you that he didn't want to have anything to do with you or the child. Is that correct?" Harry looked down at his cup and nodded. Yes, basically that was it, with insults and a lot of screaming on top.

"Now you might wonder about my visit. I can tell you, Harry, that I do not agree with the way my son handled this. Actually we had a very long and unpleasant discussion about this topic, resulting in him only speaking to me in grunts and glares now as if he was one of those terrible Goyles, but that is a completely different story." Harry stared at Narcissa as she breathed in deeply. How women could talk that much and that fast without breathing would forever be a miracle to him. "I just want you to know that I will not do what my son has done. The child that you are bearing is my very first grandchild and I am not about to give up on the chance to take part in that." She smiled at him. Warmly. Harry felt like his head was spinning and he desperately held onto his teacup. He had just won a mother-in-law.

 

That was how Harry came to have the great honour of calling Narcissa Malfoy by her given name and to have her over for tea every couple of days. Despite his doubts at first that he and Narcissa would get on she was quite nice to talk to, even if most of their conversations circled around superficial themes and the baby, though Harry was still a bit too shy to talk about that too much. He just couldn't bring himself to think too far into the future, and the thought of actually feeling the baby move inside him and giving birth scared the hell out of him.

But apart from that it was great to have someone to talk to who knew about the pregnancy, with whom he didn't feel like the biggest liar on earth just because he didn't tell them about the baby and Draco.

Draco himself, though, didn't contact him at all. There weren't even any messages that he sent via his mother. In fact Harry and Narcissa usually avoided talking about Draco. Harry didn't dare to inquire about him and whenever Draco's name came up Harry would look away and try not to show that his eyes had gone a bit misty. To himself he always said it was all because of the hormones.

 

***

 

Then, on a quite rainy Saturday afternoon someone knocked at the door, jerking Harry out of his nap. He looked around wildly before he realised the source of the noise and then practically jumped up in hope and excitement to open the door.

Finally! Finally Draco had come to apologize and to say --

Hermione and Ron were standing in front of the door, beaming at him.

"Hey Harry!" Hermione called and rushed over to him to give him a squeezing hug. "It's so good to see you!" She pushed him away a bit, still holding his arms and checking his features, before giving him an approving nod and walking into his flat.

"Hi there, mate," Ron greeted him and slapped him on the shoulder. Harry gave him a weak grin and tried not to let show that he was disappointed in who his guests were. He was doing a piss-poor job of it, naturally, and Ron sent a questioning frown at him, then followed Hermione.

"Did everything go well with your parents?" Harry asked Hermione and sat down at the kitchen table while Hermione puttered around in his kitchen.

"Yes, thank you. -- Say, don't you have coffee anymore?" Hermione glanced at the long unused coffee machine and then found the camomile tea-bags. "Never mind, this will do." A swish and two flicks and water was starting to heat up.

"Everything alright with you, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yes, yes, fine. How has Australia been?" Harry quickly asked and exhaled deeply as Hermione launched into an enthusiastic description of their mission/holiday. She told him about all the places they had visited and the people they had met - her parents had apparently made a couple of new friends Down Under. Listening to her tales and Ron's additions, he very nearly got jealous and wished he would have gone too. He had never been outside of Britain, had in fact never travelled much before the war had openly broken out - and even then Harry wouldn't really call their constant fleeing and moving 'travelling'. This might have been his chance. Especially considering what was lying before him now.

And he just had to wonder if he maybe wouldn't be pregnant now if he had gone away. He didn't know the date of the conception and maybe - just maybe - he might have avoided this.

But that was over, his chances gone and he was Harry - pregnant, single, and lonely.

"Now," Hermione interrupted Harry's musings, "tell us what's up. Something isn't quite right - even Ron can see it." She ignored the slightly offended look that she received from her boyfriend and concentrated on Harry, who was busy staring at his tea and trying to find the right words.

Of course they wouldn't come, because what were the right words to tell your friends that you, a guy, were pregnant by a guy who they hated? There were no right words, none at all.

"Out with it," Ron grunted. He was apparently still miffed about the lack of beer in Harry's freezer.

"I'm pregnant."

Ron started to laugh out loud and slapped his hands on his knees. "Good one, mate! Not that we'd buy that for a second, 'course, 'Mione will want an answer anyway -"

"Ron," Hermione interrupted her boyfriend, trying to quiet him with a sideways movement of her hand. She looked worriedly at Ron, trying to communicate wordlessly like every couple seemed to be able to, then back at Harry. "I think he's serious."

Harry only nodded numbly and swallowed. Telling them, admitting his failure, hurt indescribably. Somehow it had been his own fault. He should have known, should have protected himself and now this tarnish was on him. Harry felt a hand touching his and looked up at Hermione, who was standing in front of him.

"Oh Harry," she said and hugged him tenderly. Harry closed his eyes and let himself be engulfed by her comforting, familiar smell. "It was Malfoy, wasn't it?" He nodded again and barely flinched when Ron started a long string of curses and promises to emasculate Draco. Hermione and Ron somehow managed to help him onto the sofa, where he lay motionlessly with his head on Hermione's lap while he explained in as few words as possible how exactly it was possible for him to be pregnant.

 

***

 

Two nights later Harry found once again that he couldn't sleep. He had done everything in his power to fall asleep, but even though he was tired he just couldn't bring himself to fall into Hypnos' waiting arms. Warm milk with honey didn't do anything for him, nor did airing the room with cold, clear night air, counting Grindylows or tossing and turning.

Sitting in an armchair near the big window in the living room, huddled in a blanket and resting his head against the back of the chair, Harry stared into the sky. He could see Orion without a problem now. It was as if there was someone looking out for him somewhere up there. Maybe there really was.

God, how Harry wished that he could talk to his parents now. He needed parental advise so badly and there was no one, absolutely no one he would dare to talk about what was going on in his head.

Ron had told him to forget about Malfoy. He had said that Harry's life was better 'without that arsehole' and it was probably the best way to go about things, but Harry couldn't. He had no illusions about that sort of thing anymore. Even if he wasn't pregnant, even if Draco wasn't a Veela he would still long for him. He would want to be with him.

But Draco didn't want that. And who could hate him for it? Draco wanted to be free after everything that had happened to him, and who was Harry to say that he wasn't allowed to be? He would have preferred that for himself, too. And binding Draco to him only because he was expecting Draco 's child wasn't the right thing to do. They wouldn't be happy that way.

It didn't make Harry want Draco less, though. He wanted him in his bed, wanted his touch, his voice, his smell, wanted his presence in this apartment.

Harry sighed heavily. He was used to his wishes being denied, wasn't he? It was for the best, he told himself - but believing himself was not a thing he could do.

 

***

 

Harry peered at himself in the mirror. Was or wasn't there a bump now? He turned, made a bit of a hollow-back and squinted at his image. If he looked closely ... He stepped a bit closer to the mirror. Yes, of course! There was a bump! It was tiny, barely existent, but to Harry his practically flat stomach looked completely changed

He gazed down in marvel at his stomach and ran his hand over the flesh as if caressing the actual baby. He was only in beginning of the pregnancy and already couldn't wait to feel the child moving in him. Slowly he was finding himself fiiting into the role of a pregnant man and things were starting to get a bit better. Hermione and Ron came over for visits quite often, there were the weekly Weasley dinners, and Narcissa came also by every couple of days. Not that their relationship had become much deeper than before.

Harry had taken up on reading everything on pregnancy - especially male pregnancy - that he could get his hands on. He wanted to be prepared - though he still avoided looking at the birth-pictures. There were things that could spoil even a guy's appetite.

The Seventh-Year School that McGonagall had organised had started only a couple of days ago and Hermione was already in full study-mode. Harry had long hesitated over the decision of whether or not to go to school. He had confided in McGonagall about the pregnancy, but had kept the other father a secret, and had discussed his options with her. He couldn't do any duel practise for Defence, but he and McGonagall had decided that he didn't need to study much in that field as he already knew his way around, and couldn't brew any Potions either. She had suggested that he tried the year and take a reduced course load with only those subjects he might need for a job later on and he had agreed.

Even if things got a bit too much he could always take a break and finish his education a bit later or study at home. Actually McGonagall had been surprisingly laid back about the whole issue, which had made the conversation with her quite comfortable. Well, that and the cookies that she had insisted Harry ate.

 

***

 

When Harry was well into his third month the nausea had thankfully passed. School went reasonably well, especially now that he didn't have a Dark Lord anymore to distract him from his studies. Since there was no Quidditch training either, which he missed quite a lot, there was much more time to study than before.

Also Harry was slowly, but surely, starting to show - and he didn't even need to squint to see the bump now. It was weird, he thought. He looked a bit like he had spent too much time sitting on the couch rather than being up and about exercising, only that his belly was taut and nicely round looking.  
   
He had already informed the Weasleys of his condition - Ron would have blurted it out sooner or later anyway - and even though the shock had been great (and Molly's _Talk_ about protection had been hell) they were accepting it. There hadn't been the great fall-out like he had feared and they hadn't turned their backs on him as soon as the words had gotten out of his mouth. Though Ginny wasn't really talking to him. But George had made a whale-joke (thank God he was able to joke a bit again) and Percy had laughed and Harry knew that it was going to be alright. One thing was worrying Harry, though. Fleur had had that manic glint in her eyes and had tried to lure him onto the couch with her to discuss their pregnancies and chat about the decoration of the nurseries. Harry shuddered.  
 

"Weird," Harry said to his image in the mirror and grinned slightly. "There's a baby inside of me." He looked down at his belly, bent a bit to get his head as close to his stomach as he could manage and whispered: "Hey, you there inside of me. It's me - your Daddy." He glanced at his watch. "And I'm going to feed us cake and tea now."   
   
Narcissa had taken to inviting him out for tea as she was bored of sitting in his flat and Harry didn't want to go to the manor. Going out was better anyway, because Harry didn't have to bake or do anything at all. Besides, the cafes Narcissa always chose were wonderful and had the best cakes - only the best for Lady Malfoy, thank you very much.  
   
   
Smoothing down his shirt Harry walked into the café and looked around for Narcissa, who so far had always arrived before him. Unlike her husband and her son Narcissa showed her superiority not via coming late and having everybody wait for her, but in being there before everyone else arrived, showing discipline and punctuality. It had actually made Harry pay closer attention to the time when he was about to meet up with someone, just because he felt incredibly uncomfortable knowing that he had let somebody wait - especially in the case of Narcissa.  
   
"Hello, Narcissa." Harry sat down at their table, where his cup of camomile tea was already waiting for him, and smiled at the perfectly dressed woman. He had long given up on feeling underdressed next to her - it was simply no use.

"Hello, dear. How have you been doing?"

"Quite alright. I've developed -" The words died in Harry's throat as he saw Draco standing a couple of feet away from their table, Harry's eyes drawn to him because of the swift movement of his steps. They stared at each other like two pumas deciding whether to attack or not. Draco was the first to look away, leaving a sense of pride in Harry for not having given up in this battle when he had lost the previous one.

Draco sighed and sat down next to his mother. He waved a waiter over and ordered the tea first before actually looking at Harry and his mother again.

"I thought you and I were having a nice and quiet tea-time, mother," he finally said dryly. Harry tried not to feel hurt by the tone of disinterest in Draco voice and nearly succeeded.

Narcissa tugged at her robe and brushed a non-existent bit of lint away.

"We are, darling," she said primly. Of course Draco didn't agree, clearly marked by his scoff, "Only that I always have tea with Harry and I thought it'd be nice if the three of us had tea together."

Both Harry and Draco kept silent. Harry didn't know what to think of this. Clearly Draco didn't want to be here, but he felt sort of happy that Draco was here right now. He hadn't thought he would get a chance to really meet him again. On the other hand seeing Draco and knowing that there was not a fucking chance for Harry, that Draco would never grant him one, hurt like hell.

"Now listen," Narcissa's voice was quiet, but determined, leaving no room for objections, "I know that you, Draco, don't want to be here. I know that you never wanted this pregnancy to happen, but there's nothing you can do to change that. I also know that you don't want to have anything to do with the whole situation, but you are in this, whether you want it or not. This is your child and my grandchild and I plan on playing a role in his or her life. And if you don't want to break off all contact with me, you will be in contact with the baby, too. And that is why I want you two to get on."

Harry looked up at Draco and studied his face. He had no idea what Draco was thinking. Eventually Draco nodded.

 

***

 

"You don't really believe my mother's story of having a house-elf emergency at home, do you?" Draco asked as he walked Harry towards his flat. They had had supper together - all three of them - nearby and Harry had opted to walk the short distance instead of Apparating, which had become somewhat uncomfortable for him now that he was in his fourth month. It was already cold outside, especially at night, and Harry could hide his slightly red face behind a thick red scarf that was wound around his neck.

Harry looked at Draco questioningly, not bothering to free his mouth from the scarf, as he would have had to take his hands out of his comfortably warm coat pockets.

"Oh my, you really do! Potter," Harry gave Draco a look. He had told Draco weeks ago that he would much prefer it to be called Harry, seeing as he carried around Draco's baby in his growing belly. "- Harry, if there really was a house-elf emergency, even I don't know what exactly could be meant by that, you can be sure that my mother would not hurry back home."

Harry made some weird, muffled noises that sounded distinctly like a surprised question and Draco nodded.

"She wanted us to be alone. In the hope that we suddenly start humping each other or something." Draco scoffed and Harry mentally sighed. He had practically given up on humping - be it Draco or anybody else. Not that he wanted someone other than Draco, but in Harry's mind the mere possibility of someone wanting to fuck him was the unbelievable with him being pregnant and getting wider and wider each day. And Draco ... best to let Dragons rest. It was not something Harry's mind needed to dwell on.

Suddenly Harry felt his foot catch on something slippery and his foot was up in the air and it was too late, he was going to fall and - strong arms caught him and pulled him upright.

"Careful," Draco said with a rough voice and rested his hand for the tiniest fragment of a Moment on the small of Harry's back.

 

The place where Draco had touched him burned like flames had licked his skin. It was a comfortable warmth, but it followed him everywhere and didn't go away, not even when he went to his classes. The smile on Harry's face that had implanted itself as the imprint of a hope that Harry didn't dare to voice, stayed as well.

During the following weeks Draco always accompanied Narcissa to the tea times with Harry, saying that he deserved tea and cake as a break from all the hard studying that he did. And that was when his weird behaviour started.

First he would fetch Harry's tea from the bar when they were in cafés without waiters, saying that he would pass the bar anyway on his way from the loo. Then he started bringing Harry home every time, saying that the streets had become quite dangerous. At school he never hesitated to point out to Harry that levitating his books would be better for his back and he had even taken the liberty of floating Harry's books to the classroom for him when Harry forgot. Sometimes he even went as far as bringing Harry an apple or another piece of fruit with the words that his mother was sending them.

In mid-November Harry was sitting in the Charms room, chatting with his friends (who still didn't like Draco or his behaviour at all) when Seamus sat down next to Harry and slung his arm around him. Seamus didn't even manage to start his question before a weird noise that sounded strangely like a growl sounded through the room and Draco appeared next to Harry, glowering at Seamus. Seamus's arm dropped immediately.

"I'll see you later, Harry," he squeaked and rushed over into the safe arms of Dean. Harry turned to look at Draco and raised his eyebrows.

"Did you just growl?"

"No," Draco sniffed airily. "I do not growl."

"You did so growl."

"Did not. I don't even know why I should growl. I just came over to remind you of the tea-date with my mother." Draco walked back to his seat. Harry frowned. He had never forgotten a tea-date with Narcissa and had never needed a reminder of those. And Draco had growled; he was sure of it. Like a dog keeping others off of his patch. The thought made Harry feel warm and fuzzy inside.

 

***

 

Christmas was slowly sneaking up on the population, manifesting in shop windows, trees, in the clouds and living rooms. The scent of gingerbread was nearly constantly in the air, followed by a mist of hot chocolate and cinnamon.

Harry had to cast enlargement charms on his jumpers, because he was steadfastly refusing to go out and buy new ones. Even though he was 'openly pregnant' by now - because how could he not be with a round belly like that? - he still found the thought of going out and buying new clothes, and having to change in a shop, very uncomfortable.

It didn't keep him from strolling in the snow through Diagon Alley, however. Resting one hand comfortably on his stomach and holding a paper bag with a nice, soft, gift-wrapped scarf for Hermione in the other he walked down the street, looking through a window here, buying some hot chestnuts there. All in all it was the perfect day to do one's Christmas shopping.

He still needed to find the perfect gift for Draco. For Narcissa he had bought a perfume he was sure she would hate, but that was more or less a given with his non-existing talent for picking gifts. Draco was supposed to be easier, though, since they were both male, of the same age and enjoyed the same things. Well, mostly.

He walked past the Quidditch supplies shop - Draco had enough of that stuff - and looked around. No books, because with Draco Harry would have the same problems that he would have with Hermione - he didn't know what books both of them owned, only that there were a lot. He didn't even think about buying clothes for Draco, because Draco would never wear them anyway, since he had so much better taste in them. He needed something better. Something extraordinary. Something that would make Harry look worthy in Draco's eyes. Lost in his thoughts Harry wandered over to the display window of Eeylops Owl Emporium and stared at his reflection in the glass. He just couldn't think of any good presents! There had to be something that even he was able to find.

The reflected movements of the passers by caught his eye and Harry let his eyes wander over them. Some of them looked like they were stressed out from shopping for seven noisy kids and a complicated wife, others just strolled arm in arm along the street, looking utterly relaxed. Harry sighed. He wished he could be relaxed. A kick in his middle reminded him that he should try to calm down a bit and not to make such a big thing out of the whole present buying business. Smiling, Harry rubbed gently over his stomach and turned his eyes back to the window again.

Suddenly a familiar blond head mirrored in the window walked into Harry's field of vision and Harry's smile widened. Just as he was about to turn around to greet Draco he noticed someone else walking next to the blond man. It took him a second or two to recognise Theodore Nott, but when he did he remembered that in school there had been a rumour that Nott and Draco had been a little bit more than friends. In fact they were looking pretty cosy right now and Harry didn't like it one bit.

Draco pointed at the display in a shop nearby and they went over to take a closer look, their sides close to each other, as if they were holding hands. Maybe they were. Theodore said something and Draco laughed, their heads nearly touching. Harry bet that Theodore would now feel Draco's breath on his skin and if he would tilt his head only a bit, just like Harry would -

Harry Apparated away.

 

***

 

Harry had cancelled the tea-date for Friday. On Saturday an owl from Draco came, but flew away again carrying the unopened letter in her claws. Sunday around lunch time there was another owl from him, who suffered the same fate as the first did, and then another one around dinner.

Harry glared at the window, from which the last owl had just flown off, and sucked the blood from the scratches on his hand. Stupid Malfoy. Stupid effing Malfoy, who was too egoistical to notice that Harry cared about him, who would probably never be interested in Harry again, who didn't care a bit for Harry and their child. No -Harry's child. He would raise the baby alone, without Malfoy - he would be strong enough, he didn't need the other man, anyway.

Harry sniffed and grabbed one of the many used handkerchiefs that were lying scattered around him to blow his nose. For a Moment he contemplated making some more camomile tea to calm down a bit, but then he remembered that that would only increase his need to take a piss and he really could do without the walking around. Mainly because he would have to get up again and he already felt like he couldn't move any more. There were still two more months to go and now he was alone, thanks to Malfoy. Harry didn't want to imagine what things would be like when he was close to labour.

Harry shook his head. One of the many things he didn't want to think about now. Oh, he was happy about becoming a father, but there were so many aspects that he was fucking scared to death of.

Harry used the handkerchief to wipe his eyes dry. _Come on, Harry, he thought. No need to cry. You're strong, you have friends. You will survive without Malfoy._

And Harry was sure that he would - the only problem was that he wanted to spend his life with Malfoy and not without him. But apparently Malfoy couldn't care less. Harry snorted. Well, no wonder. Theodore Nott wasn't six months pregnant and looked like a double-sized hippopotamus.

 

The next day Harry owled Professor McGonagall that he wasn't feeling well and would lie down for the day. The ceiling was interesting, Harry noted. Had cracks here and there and the white was a little bit uneven, looking a bit more like eggshell at some places. He didn't feel like getting up anytime soon. Wasn't even hungry, but had eaten a bit of toast for the child's sake.

Why? That was the most prominent thought in his head. Why wasn't he good enough for Malfoy? Why did he want someone who didn't want him? Why couldn't he be loved?

Maybe he should leave. Start a new life in a place where no one knew who he was. Maybe then everything would be better.

But leaving? He'd have to leave Ron and Hermione as well and -

CRASH!

The sound of his front-door bursting open made Harry jerk up in panic. Memories of the war - Run! Run! - were streaming through his head and his heart was racing as he moved as quickly as he could next to the door. He waited, wand in hand and a curse ready on his tongue.

Then some swearing, uttered in an unpleasantly familiar voice, could be heard, followed by the cry: "Harry?!" Harry's features hardened and he stepped out of the bedroom into the living room.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly and pointed his wand at Draco, who was looking around wildly as if the flat was smeared with blood or something horrifying like that.

"You ... Are you alright?" Draco asked and licked his lips nervously.

"Not your concern." Harry snarled.

"I sent you a couple of owls and you weren't at school -"

"Like I said, that's none of your concern." Harry still kept up his wand. Malfoy needed to leave. "Now repair my door and leave."

"I - what? Hey, I came because I was worried," Draco said and Harry scoffed. "I just wanted to come and look for you."

"Yeah, right. As if you'd care." Harry squelched down that tiny flame of hope that had briefly flickered up until he had remembered the events in Diagon Alley. "I don't want to talk to you and I certainly don't want to see you, so piss off!"

"What did I do?" Draco asked, sounding genuinely surprised. He had always been a good actor.

"I do not want to discuss this. I want you gone!" Harry turned around to go back into his bedroom - anything to get away from Malfoy. Why did he have to come and make everything even harder? Couldn't he just run off with Nott or something, instead of rubbing his presence in Harry's face?

"Wait!" Draco shouted and grabbed Harry's arm.

His grip was strong and even hurt, but Harry only said: "Let go of me."

"First we're going to talk about this! What is wrong, Harry?"

"Don't call me Harry! You didn't call me Harry when we fucked and you will not call me Harry now!"

"I thought you wanted that?"

"I want nothing from you." Draco looked honestly bewildered now. "Sod off, Malfoy. Go back to your latest fuck-toy and get out of my life and the life of my child!"

"Fuck-toy? What are you talking about? I haven't -"

"Sure you haven't. What about Theodore Nott then? Aren't you fucking him, huh?" Harry wanted to punch Draco so badly at that moment, but the blond was still holding his arm firmly.

"Theo?"

"I know you had something going on with him in school and -"

"Everyone knew."

"- and I know you have something going on with him now! But you know what? You can fuck him all you like - but don't expect me to hang around in that case. I am not somebody you can just use!"

"I didn't use you! I didn't even touch you these past months!"

Harry flinched as if Draco had just kicked him in the stomach.

"I know." he said with a low voice. Of course he knew. Sitting next to Draco during the tea-dates had been bad enough without being reminded that he couldn't have him and that Draco didn't want him. And then he had started to hope, only to have his hope cruelly destroyed. "Why don't you just go to him?"

"To whom?"

"Theodore Nott!"

"Why should I?"

"How would I know?! I'm not you! You're the one who's fucking him!"

"I told you: I am not!" Draco raked a hand through his hair. "Merlin! Is this all because you thought that I got off with Theo?" Harry turned around, facing the window, and chose not to answer. Draco's amused scoff sounded through the room. "You were jealous."

"Don't ridicule me."

"I'm not."

"You've made it perfectly clear to me that you don't want me, so I know I'm being stupid." Harry rubbed his burning eyes. Tired, he was just tired.

"You are -" Draco's voice came closer. "- not stupid." Harry jumped when suddenly Draco laid a hand on Harry's stomach. "And I'm sorry for being ... well, for being how I have been."

"You are?" Harry mumbled sceptically. He was not interested, he told himself, he would not give in and get his heart broken all over again. All of a sudden the baby kicked and Draco let out a surprised, amazed gasp that caressed Harry's cheek. Harry turned his head and their eyes locked.

"I'd like to try." Draco said quietly.

"Try what?" Harry searched Draco's eyes for some sign, some pointer to what to expect.

"Try us."

"I will not be a side dish to your other courses." Harry told him determinedly but with a voice that suggested so much hope.

"There will be no other courses, I promise." Draco's hand stroked gently over Harry's stomach and a soft, dreamy smile graced his lips. Harry exhaled deeply and nodded. He didn't know what would come out of this - he wasn't even sure if Draco would manage to be true to his word - but he knew he had to try.


End file.
